Nox
by bookreader911
Summary: Harry Potter, missing from Britain for 13 years, returns for the Triwizard Tournament. But not as a student. Harry becomes more like the Dark Lord with each passing day. Redo fic! Time travel; Grey!Powerful!Harry Voldemort & Harry are one! NOT SLASH
1. Chapter 1

This story starts at the end of chapter 34 of GOF. Harry has just been hit by the _Cruciatus_ cures for the first time. I don't own anything.

Chapter 1

The bindings that held him were the only things left supporting his deadened weight after being hit with the _Cruciatus_. Post tremors racked his aching body as the glistening read orbs that were his enemies eyes drifted closer. As though through a tunnel he could hear the sadistic laughs of the Death Eater's who had made a perfect circle around the Dark Lord and himself.

"Let's have some fun, shall we?" hissed a voice near his ear.

A cold spindly hand snapped out and grabbed him by the back of the neck and Harry was hoisted into the air just as the Death Eaters and Cedric's body were summoned together with a wave of Tom's hand. The Dark Lord didn't even say _accio,_ as the portkey flew into his outstretched hand, and all 33 of them were whisked away with the feeling of a tug on their navel.

Harry's dread increased tenfold when he realized what was happening. They were going back to Hogwarts. All of them. A part of his mind registered that maybe this could be considered a good thing, which should make him feel safer by being so close to the place he calls home. But he couldn't. Harry could only think of the danger he was putting everyone in.

The portkey started to slow down and Harry tried to brace himself for the awaiting impact, but there was little he could do with the ropes around him.

The Dark Lord's hands released him just in time for the man to land gracefully, while Cedric and Harry were thrown across the clearing in front of the stands. The air around them felt heavier and colder than when the contestants first entered the maze. Harry started to wonder if Voldemort is changing the temperature as a scare tactic before the 14 year old decided he just didn't care.

Dead silence met their arrival, and Harry couldn't blame them for their inability to speak. What would you do if a previously dead Dark Lord and his lackeys showed up with one dead teen and another tied up one?

The Gryffindor couldn't bring himself to move, so he let his body go limp once more. The pain was so intense that the boy's head pounded in time with his wayward heart. His heart pumped so loudly that for several long moments Harry was sure that everyone else could hear it just as well as he could.

Using the shocked silence Harry looked around in search of his friends. They all sat still in the stricken silence. Mrs. Weasley's eyes showed only worry as she gazed down upon where he lay. Tears brim in her eyes and Harry's aching heart warms at the sight. Hermione had a similar expression on her face, and horror filled sobs gasp through her lips. Standing next to her is Ron and a fierce hatred burned in his eyes, and Dumbledore just looked old. In that moment he looked all of his 150 years as his face crinkles into a look of deep sadness and anger, but no surprise shows on his wise face. Harry quickly came to the conclusion that the old man knew this was going to happen. A deep anger rose inside of the boy as he gazed up at his mentor, only to be quickly beaten down by the pain in his limbs.

Movement out of the corner of his eyes drew his attention away from the spectators. Voldemort had put up a shield, a wide dome like structure that glowed dark red in the night air.

Now that the shield was up, the Dark Lord began to pace in front of the Boy-Who-Lived's prone body. After several long moments of charged silence, the Dark Lord began to speak in a voice that was filled with malicious glee. He spoke in the dead silence and Harry did his best to tune him out. He didn't want to spend his last few moments alive listening to the Dark Lord gloat.

It wasn't until hands seized him that Harry paid attention to his surroundings. Two cloaked figures pulled him to his knees in an awkward kneel. A hand grabbed his hair and ripped his head back roughly. Harry was being forced to look the Dark Lord in the eyes.

"Harry!" several voices screamed as the teen was presented to Voldemort.

"You see ladies and gentlemen, your precious Boy-Who-Lived, your hero, and your savior is bowing down before me. Young Harry has taken the . . . unhealthy . . . path and tried to spite me. Not that it means anything for my plans, no. He will join his mother soon. His mudblood mother is the only thing that has prevented me from killing him earlier. Love. Love is what saved him from my curse, but do you see love saving him now? No, even Dumbledork knows I cannot be beaten," his voice carried through the stands with a hypnotizing hiss.

"But Lord Voldemort will always be a step ahead of the Light. I infiltrated Hogwarts staff and had one of my loyal Death Eaters place Harry Potter's name into the Goblet of Fire. I had them make sure Potter would reach the cup first. Victor Krum was placed under the _Imperius _and instructed to torture Cedric Diggory, but alas Potter and his saving people thing had to step in and save the day before Krum permanently harmed the boy. Potter and the Hufflepuff boy grabbed the cup together to tie for first, and the outcome of that heart touching plan lies before you. Harry Potter is suffering from post Cruciatus Curse tremors, and Diggory is dead.

"It seems that the great Albus Dumbledore has been out smarted," the Dark Lord's voice mocked. "So now let's watch young Mr. Potter get what has been waiting for him, all these years."

Cold ruby eyes locked onto Harry's in an intense stare down, daring him to defy, but he doesn't back down and keeps eyes contact with a mocking glare of his own. He knew he was going to die. It was seconds away, but if he was going to die then he would make it as irritating as possible for the Dark Lord.

"_Crucio_."

The pain was instantaneous and firm hands held him upright. Harry's eyes closed as he loses himself to the pain. His shrieks barely held in by biting his lower lip. He won't let them hear him scream. Never again with they have that pleasure. He won't beg, before he dies, for the pain to stop, but that doesn't mean no sound escaped his sealed lips. No, for an outsider it sounded like he was being electrocuted; which was probably the best way to describe the pain cutting through his body with sickening ease.

The pain didn't fully stop even after he lifted the curse, and he was left panting on the ground with a bleeding lip. After several long moments, Harry found it in himself to slowly lift his pounding head to meet the Dark Lord's red ones. Irritation shines in them. The Dark Lord had wanted him to scream in front of them, but Harry was going to die defiant like his mother.

"Very well Potter if one Cruciatus Curse isn't enough to make you scream what will 30 do?" It was a rhetorical question that all of his Death Eaters were dying to answer.

Panic and terror strangled him. He could barely keep his sanity in check with one curse, two would be too much and Voldemort knew it. Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to keep his screams in this time, so he wasn't even going to try.

Voldie-Wish-He'd-Just-Go-Moldy motioned for his Death Eaters to raise their wands, and Harry's eyes met the Headmaster's as the red lights flew towards him.

Insanity threatened to encompass him as the 30 curses made contact with his already aching body. The pain was too much. In that moment, the only thing he wanted to do was die. He would rather have never been born than to not have to face this sort of pain. Death would be so much easier. After several long moments under the curse, darkness colored Harry's vision, and no sound penetrated his ears, the pain robbed him of his hearing just moments before.

It felt like a life time later that the flow of magic fueling his pain stopped, but it could only have been seconds. For several timeless moments, he drifted aimlessly on a bed of clouds, floating. He gave himself to the blackness gathering at the edge of his mind, and at that moment everything was so peaceful, so _pain free_. It was all he could think about. The darkness was so welcoming, he felt as if he were wrapped in a warm blanket in a familiar place.

"_Ennervate_," a harsh, demanding voice called, summoning him from the darkness, and he had no other choice but to wake up and leave the pain free land.

* * *

The stands had fallen silent when the portkey activated, bringing the champion back. Nervous anticipation turned to horror as not one but 33 people materialized. Dead silence met the arrival of 30 cloaked men, but it wasn't the Death Eater's that drew the crowd's attention. No, it was the tall, pale, snake like figure that drew their eyes. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named landed gracefully on Hogwarts grounds, as two teenagers were thrown through the air.

Cedric's lifeless body flopped onto the ground, making many gasp at his glazed unseeing eyes. Harry Potter was half conscious and bound as he fell in an ungraceful heap onto the ground. Sobs were heard around the transfigured Quidditch Pitch as the scene before them sank in.

The Dark Lord's followers made a semicircle facing the crowd, with the Dark Lord, himself, in the middle. You-Know-Who stood tall for all to see as he preached; he explained how young Harry Potter was going to die like his parents, and how Albus Dumbledore had been out smarted by the greatest Dark Lord the world has ever seen. Terror swept through the audience as The Boy-Who-Lived was pulled onto his knees by two masked men. The audacity of the boy shocked many, as he defiantly stared death in the face, waiting for his execution.

"_Crucio,_" the Dark Lord shrieked.

Harry Potter jerked and twisted under the effects of the Unforgivable. Blood dripped down his lip where he had bitten through it to keep the screams in. Noises came from his sealed lips, sounding like a Muggle being electrocuted. Two sets of strong hands held the boy down, as his body spasms out of control, until finally the curse is lifted. Harry was left panting with his head drooped for several long moments. Until intense emerald eyes lifted to meet the crazed ruby ones, and then The Dark Lord spoke the words that would make every person's heart miss a beat.

"Very well Potter if one Cruciatus Curse isn't enough to make you scream what will 30 do?"

The horrified audience could only watch in sickened silence, as the two Death Eaters holding Harry stepped back into the circle and as one lift their wands towards the trembling boy. Terror is easily seen on the fourteen year olds face, and the boy's eyes don't leave the red ones as, simultaneously, the Death Eaters cast the curse that can drive a person insane.

The boy fell onto his back as the curses hit and his reaction would forever be burned into the minds of those watching. Harry Potter's back arched towards the sky as a soundless scream was torn from his lips; his convulsing body displayed for all to see. Blood seeped from his eyes, nose, and ears as the curses racked through his body. His scream to high pitched for anyone to hear, and after the longest 20 seconds, the Wizarding World has ever seen, the Death Eater's lifted the curse, after a hand motion from their Lord.

A twitching Boy-Who-Lived slumped back into the cold earth and became deathly still. Tears ran down most people's faces, as The Dark Lord and his followers cackled in the night air. Aurors begun to arrive and were swarming the stands. Sobs grew in strength and loudness as the emotional level rose, making the air crackle with unseen power.

"You see, my might alone has squashed your precious Boy-Who-Lived. Now, let's see if he's sane enough to say anything about it." He pointed his yew wand at the silent teenager and said, "_Ennervate_."

* * *

The pain of consciousness is too much and he gasped and cried out as his fingers dug into the hard earth. Harry couldn't focus; words and coherent thought were beyond him. Dimly, he became aware that he was still screaming, but he couldn't find his mouth to stop it. _I want to die_, he begged to God as post Cruciatus tremors made stomach acid seep from his open mouth.

The bliss of unconsciousness faded like a dream, and in its place fire ran ramped in his nerves. His limbs jerk of their own accord, and warm, sticky blood oozed into his mouth. Harry cried out, spluttering, as he choked on his own blood. The ropes still restricted him and he squirmed inside of them until they were magiced off by some unknown source.

He felt vibrations in the ground, his only warning, before he was wrenched into the air by an unseen hand. He screamed in terror and pain, his limbs protesting to the sudden movement.

The contact lasted only a moment before he was sailing through the air. With a dole thud he connected with the damp earth and curled into a protective ball, his knees curled to his chest, and head in his arms. Some part of his mind registered someone laughing nearby, but he couldn't place the sound. There's a fog so thick in his mind that he couldn't even remember who made that sound. More cries were torn from him as hands touch him once more. The hands were cold, and he shivered as they caressed him mockingly. Using what little remained of his strength; he focused on opening his eyes. His vision blurred and swayed as vertigo makes him dizzy. Harry tried to blink it away with little success. The only things he could focus on were haunting red eyes and a flash of green light, before darkness wrapped around him once more.

Hopefully for good.

* * *

Fearful silence awaited the boy's awakening. There was no way someone could withstand so much pain. There were people in St. Mungo's that were insane from over exposure to that curse. As the spell took affect, the boy's body flailed and thrashed, and everyone in the stands feared the worst as screams erupted from the skinny fourteen year old. His fingers tore through the rough ground as his body convulsed.

They watched as the teen fought against the bindings around him, his screams reaching extreme highs, before the Dark Lord vanished them.

The boy didn't seem sane enough to open his eyes, or know that he was screaming, and You-Know-Who let out a cackle of mad laughter, as the boy struggled with insanity for several long moments, before seizing him with spindly fingers. The boy's cries turned into fear filled ones as he was thrown forward in front of the stands.

The teen came to a halt with a thud, landing in a mud puddle. He curled into himself, as if to protect himself from further blows. The Dark Lord glided forward, towards the boy after several cackles, and started to pet him like a beloved cat. The boy jerked under his hands and struggled to open his blood covered eyes, as the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named withdrew his pale hand, and stepped back a few paces.

Rasping breaths echoed through the night air, before dole green eyes opened and blinked several times.

Dole green eyes meet triumphant ruby ones.

With a cackle and high pitched shout, a bright flash of green light soared through the air, hitting the boy between the eyes.

The crowd screams as the teen slumps like a puppet with its strings cut, but the boy wasn't the only one to reap the effects of the Killing curse. Time seemed to stand still as a blast of an invisible force blasted back towards its caster. The Dark Lord flew through the air and crumpled to the ground, as the waves of magic washed harmlessly over the occupants in the stands.

Silence fell over the land as the two souls were whisked away.


	2. Chapter 2 Starting Over

This chapter contains scenes that I did not create. They are from the Harry Potter books and I do not own them.

Chapter 2

Like all good things, the dark bliss came to an end.

Most of the pain was gone and he could think straight for the first time in what seemed like forever, but he felt . . . different. It was like the time all the bones were removed from his arm, and all he was left with was a rubbery replica. His whole body tingled with the post bone vanishing feeling. It wasn't very pleasant to say the least.

_I thought death was supposed to be painless_, he thought as his vision started to return to him. Blinking, he stared at the wood that formed a cage around him. _Where am I_?

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" a voice begged from somewhere close.

Oh God, this couldn't be happening. Had he pissed off God in a former life? What had he done to disserve to watch his mother die again?

"Stand aside, you silly girl . . stand aside now," a voice hissed with dark amusement. A thrill of excitement and fear flashed through him at the sound of that voice. Excitement? Where the hell did that come from?

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-" Now he could see her. She stood in front of his crib with her arms stretched wide, as if she could embrace his awaiting fate for him.

"This is my last warning-"

"Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy . . . . Not Harry! Not Harry! Please - I'll do anything-"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

Moving on shaking limbs, he pulled himself to his feet using the bars in front of him. He stood just as a bright flash of green light and a high pitched curse felled his mother.

His cry of anguish came out as a babyish sob, and without giving it permission, his arm reached for her.

And with a sense of déjà vu he stared into red eyes. Oh God, didn't he just do this? Getting hit with the Killing curse once was bad luck, but twice? In the same day? The red eyes seemed to measure him for several long moments.

"Bad boy!" he accused, pointing a stubby finger at the Dark Lord. A smirk curled the man's face.

As he stood there glaring, at the most powerful dark lord to walk on the Earth in a long time, with the fiercest baby glare he could muster, Voldemort brought his wand up between the toddler's eyes. Knowing what was to come; Harry stood his ground and sneered at the man that would be the death of him.

"_Avada Kadavra_!"

For the second time in what seemed like minutes, green light flew towards him from the yew wand.

Blinding pain.

He screamed as the curse connected with his forehead. Light blossomed in front of his eyes, and he wasn't the only one screaming. Tom Riddle's pain filled cries joined his and together they made a symphony of horror.

A large whirlwind of magic swept through the room as the Dark Lord crumpled to the ground. The manly cries of the wizard faded, but the high shrieks of the baby did not. Harry had been blasted back in his crib and now screamed on his back as the house shuddered. _It's going to collapse_, he thought as the floor creaked.

For a moment he felt weightless.

With a loud crash, the floor gave and he fell to the kitchen. The body of his mother fell near him as his magic slowed down his fall. Ceiling beams littered the ground all around him and some started to smoke.

Shouts and cries of a voice interrupted his wails of displeasure. _About time someone showed up_, he thought snidely. A beam near him caught fire. He quieted for a moment before picking up again with more urgent cries for help. Grabbing the closest thing to him, which happened to be a blanket with _Harry_ printed on it, he waited for Hagrid to come.

He didn't have to wait much longer. The sobbing half-giant pushed rubble out of his way to reach the source of the infant cries. Hagrid had big, fat crocodile tears trailing down his bearded face. Snot soaked his mustache, as he reached for Harry with large hands.

"It's okay, Harry." The hell it was. He had just been sent back in time, and witnessed his parents' murder! Harry was lifted up from under the arms and tucked against a broad chest. Not one to complain, he snuggled against his first friend.

Slowly, Hagrid made the journey back outside. They passed both of his parents, and Hagrid firmly covered Harry's face so he didn't catch a glimpse of their bodies. They had just reached the door when the familiar sound of a motorcycle met Harry's sensitive ears.

Sirius.

Gripping his blanket, Harry wiggled against Hagrid's strong grip, and reached for his godfather as soon as he came into view. A much younger looking Sirius, blinked owlishly at the destroyed house. His pale face was a sharp contrast to the night sky. Harry's cries alerted the man to their presence, and with one more blink the man was brought back from his thoughts.

"Give him here, Hagrid. I'm his godfather," Padfoot said in a husky voice.

But Harry didn't get handed to Sirius, and his screaming reached a new high as the two men talked and the bike exchanged hands. He was ignored for the most part. The only indication that they knew he wanted something was the slow rocking motion Hagrid had started. Confusion swept threw him as he was wrapped tighter in his blanket and carried to the bike. _No_! _Padfoot_! Sirius ran into the house and disappeared to get his parents out of there before going after Wormtail.

Harry didn't want to leave his godfather, but there was nothing he could do as they took off. Flying into the sky, his wails were drowned out by the roar of the engine, and Hagrid did little more than pat his bottom as they flew in the cold October air.

Huffing in irritation he succumbed to exhaustion.

* * *

They were either crashing or landing, but with Hagrid driving it could be hard to tell sometimes. They landed noisily in the middle of the suburbs, and without having to investigate, Harry knew they were in Privet Drive.

Not wanting them to know he was awake, Harry kept his eyes closed and breathing even. For some reason, part of him was wary of letting them know he was awake.

They were greeted by a grandfatherly voice, "Hagrid, at last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid said while he gently stepped off the bike. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

They leaned over him and he felt their warm breath on his skin. "Is that where-?" whispered McGonagall.

"Yes, he'll have that scar forever," said the Headmaster softly.

Harry struggled to stay awake as they spoke of scars, and he started to drift until he was placed in different arms and loud sobs erupted from Hagrid. A wet whiskery kiss was placed on his face and part of him wanted to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

They spoke quietly after that about unimportant things, and after another moment of silence Harry felt himself being carried forward. And without another word he was placed on the magically cushioned doorstep and a light warming charm was applied to his blanket.

A small envelope was placed near his hand and he automatically reached to grab it as the old wizard, the witch, and the half giant left Privet Drive.

* * *

"Vernon!"

Ah, there was the familiar banshee that he had come to know and hate. "Pickme up, you imbeciles," he tried to yell over her, but it only came out as a cry of his own. This really was annoying. What was he going to do if he wasn't able to speak?

A red face entered his line of vision and Harry couldn't stop the raspberry that slipped past his lips, getting spittle on Vernon's new tie. Nor could he stop the childish giggle that followed.

The red face purpled.

* * *

The cupboard looked huge. He had always fit in the small closet, due to malnutrition he had always been a small child, but this was ridiculous. Only he could be sent to his cupboard this fast. He hadn't even had a cheerful hello, or maybe and inquiry as to where he came from. No, it was "take that freak and put him someplace I don't have to see him". Seriously, he was just a baby, a slightly demented one at that, but still a baby none the less.

He had stopped his cries soon after being placed in the closet, but he was going to start up again if they didn't do their job soon. Being a baby had many draw backs, and being wet and hungry wasn't fun.

Screams sounded from somewhere upstairs, and the arguing cut off as Petunia hurried upstairs to attend to their spoiled, whale of a son. Heaving a long suffering sigh, Harry sat against the back wall, his blanket stuffed out of sight so that it wouldn't be taken away.

His baby patience was running real low, and it seemed like a life time later that the door was opened and he was lifted out. He didn't even get to leave the hallway. After being placed on a towel, he was quickly changed and a bottle of regular milk, which had been thrown in the microwave, was pushed into his mouth.

He wasn't given much time to complain about the crappy meal, however, and was soon pushed back into the dark cupboard. _You could just kill the stupid muggles_, a part of him thought. What the hell? Harry didn't hate muggles. _But Lord Voldemort does_. Damn, now he was hearing voices in his own head. Maybe he wasn't left as unscathed from the torture festival as he thought.

He had to do something; had to find a way to get out of the Dursley's home. But what was a man to do when he was in an infant's body, and it was dangerous to his core to access his magic? It would be another six years before a normal child became more aware of their magic.

He didn't think he could last that long in this house again. No, he knew the Dursleys were only housing him because they were afraid of Dumbledore. But what if they feared him more? He wasn't a normal child, but he wasn't the most capable wizard either. _I am, though_, said a separate voice in his head.

_Shut up voice_, he thought back. Something was wrong. He had never grown up with this voice the first time.

_Just leave the scheming to me, Potter_. His world went black.

* * *

**_Please Review._**


	3. Chapter 3 Demented Souls

Warning: contains child abuse…and Harry and the Dark Lord are buds…don't like don't read.

Chapter 3

Petunia Dursley was supposed to have a normal life. She would live the life of the perfect house wife, with the perfect son that looked just like his father, and a good husband that brought in lots of money.

This abomination did not fit into that picture. If her sister hadn't gotten blown up, and good riddance, her and Vernon wouldn't have been burdened with their freak son. The boy was already taking away from her son and wallet. She wouldn't have it, no way.

What had she done to deserve to be dumped with the boy? Why hadn't the boy been taken to an orphanage where freaks like him deserved to be placed? Dumbledore that's why. The old man had placed the baby on their doorstep, assuming that they would take it in out of the goodness of their hearts. They didn't have a choice in the matter.

No doubt they were being watched. The freaks probably had someone watching their every move to make sure they were good to the boy.

Vernon had wanted to dump the freak right away, but she had protested against it. What would the neighbors think if the freaks were seen going in and out of their house looking for the boy? The freaks probably suspected that to be their first move, and were waiting for them to slip up so that they could be taken away.

The best thing that they could do was wait it out. If they thought they had taken the boy with minimal fuss they would go away. Yes, and then she could have the perfect live again.

* * *

The Dark Lord squatted in the small cupboard under the stairs. He had had enough. He had always  
hated muggles, but this was beyond irritating. Growing up in the orphanage hadn't been fun, but at least he hadn't been locked in a closet as a baby. Sitting in a dirty nappy, with a rash, was a torture no child should be left to endure. Well, except the muggles' fat son.

He had been in this house for about two weeks and already he was half mad. Okay maybe he was already mad, but this was driving him crazy. Potter had been hard to convince but after a lot of persuasion (and quite a few threats) they reached an impasse. The boy was just as miserable as him, and would use any means necessary to make a break for it. Granted he wasn't to actually hurt the muggles, but they didn't have to know that.

Potter was good at playing the good baby, while he made a great demented baby with glowing red eyes. And they were going to use that to their advantage. They would show the muggles that they didn't belong in this house; that they _were_ the freak that they thought they were, but they would be much worse.

They were going to start it out simple.

With a small demented giggle. Harry Potter was once more in control of his body and mind.

* * *

Harry sat silently in the corner, fake tears trailing down his face, as his cousin gulped down a bottle greedily. Weren't they too old for bottles? Oh well, it was part of the plan and he had to do it.

Waiting for Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon to enter the room, he reached forward with his hands, as if he was gripping an invisible cup, and using some of the magic Tom had stored in their body, he summoned the milk to him. Dudley cried out as his snack was taken away from him by an unseen force.

The look on his Uncle's face told him everything. He was in for it.

* * *

The bruises hurt when he moved, but in the end they would be worth it. His little stunt with the milk had cost him a lot of strength, but it had planted the seed of fear in their hearts. Even his mother hadn't shown signs of magic this early.

It had only been about a day since his magic trick, and he had not been attended to in that time. He smelt worse than a sailor who had gone without a shower, and his diaper rash was so bad that he couldn't move without pain in his bum. But Voldemort promised they would be out of here soon.

In the time they had spent together in the cupboard, he had more or less come to terms with the fact that the Dark Lord shared his body. It had been hard to swallow at first and he fought it as hard as he could, but it was impossible. They shared the body of a 15 month old baby, and there was nothing he could do about it. They had reached an agreement. They would do their best to work together until they got out of this house and the Dursleys were arrested.

Didn't mean he had to like it.

He wasn't happy about sharing his body with a sadistic dark lord, but it could come in useful at times like these. The man's knowledge was immense. The first day he had learned a great deal, and he felt a thrill of excitement every time their minds touched. Sometimes they would talk for hours when they were locked in his cupboard. They covered a lot of trivial topics about the muggle and magical worlds. The Dark Lord gave some very interesting insights on things Harry wasn't too sure about.

Why Harry had thought that purebloods only wanted to keep that status for recognition in society. He had been wrong. True some just wanted to be able to look down on people with a poorer blood status, but for many it was to keep old magical traits alive. Some lines were gifted with certain magical abilities that the family didn't want to die out, and mixing with halfbloods was one of the best ways to rid the line of that trait.

Yes, most agree that inbreeding is bad for one's health, but the families that started inbreeding usually died off, or were grasping at straws to keep their gifts to themselves. The ability to speak to snakes was one of the best examples he was given. Though, it was for the best that the Dark Lord's mother mated with a muggle. The line would have died out if she didn't. Due it inbreeding, the Gaunts were mostly squibs, and the muggle blood had given the line a fresh start.

It was quite an interesting topic, and Harry hadn't known what to think about it. He still didn't agree with the whole "purebloods are better" ideal, but he was more open minded.

_Get to work idiot_, Moldyshorts hissed.

Rolling his eyes, he set to strengthening his magical core like Voldemort had shown him. First, he used the magic in his body to sense an area with a high concentration of magic; wards for example, were great for this exercise. Then he closed his eyes and cleared his mind. This was to make sure that no outside force distracted him from the job at hand, and he drew a breath of air and pulled the magic with it. Breathing in the magic was a great way to let it circulate through his body and it helped strengthen his core. Breathing out, he released some of the magic that didn't stay in his veins.

After an hour of this exercise, he was ready for step two of their plan.

They would come for him in a moment. Petunia would take him out to change and feed him; maybe even hose him off. Vernon would most likely be in front of the television while all of this transpired, and Harry would have to be carried right past him for the plan to work.

His door was opened, and once more he was lifted out of the small hell hole he had been kept in for 24 hours without a break. Petunia wrinkled her nose at the smell, and handed him a bottle before carrying him to the back yard. He didn't get to drink out of the cup for long, because he soon found himself stripped and under the garden hose. The water was freezing on his soft skin, and he let his displeasure be known. His wails were silenced as the bottle was crammed into his mouth, and he was carried back inside.

It was time. Just as Vernon came into his line of sight, Harry threw the milk, hitting his uncle square in the back of the head. Vernon shot up out of his seat with an angry grunt and reached to grab him. Cackling inwardly, Harry let the Dark Lord take over.

* * *

Voldemort waited for the right moment to take over the body. He had to do it at the right time. Potter had to get the oaf to fall into their trap at just the right time or else it wouldn't work, but he wasn't disappointed with Potter's performance. As soon as the whale of a muggle reached for them, Potter handed over the reins.

Just as the man's hands were inches away from his body, he let his eyes turn red instead of their natural green color. They didn't notice right away.

So he burst into flame.

Large tendrils of fire licked harmlessly over his body, emitting from every inch of his skin, and flaring out towards the hands that had threatened him moments before.

Petunia dropped him, and he landed with a thud on his bottom, his magic stopping most of the fall. Immediately, he stood up on wobbly legs and stepped towards them. Their screams echoed around the house and woke up Dudley, who proceeded to wail.

Water drenched him and his flames went out. Looking up, his red eyes met the terrified brown ones of Petunia Dursley, and in her left hand she held an empty glass.

* * *

Vernon Dursley drove looking over his shoulder. He crisscrossed and backtracked in a desperate attempt to throw off an imaginary pursuer. As he drove, he muttered under his breath about homicidal freaks trying to harm good, normal people.

Harry sat quietly looking out of the window with a solemn look in his green eyes. Inwardly, he rejoiced at the chance to leave the Dursleys forever, but fear of the unknown knotted his stomach.

They had been in the car for about two hours before Vernon came to a stop in front of a rundown looking building. Children chased their car and screamed in anticipation at their arrival. But they weren't here to adopt.

Vernon stepped out of the car and slammed the door. The smarter children backed away. Purple faced, the man opened the back door. Harry gripped his blanket as he was lifted into the air.

The matron of the orphanage stood on the porch with a sad look on her face. Vernon pushed through the throng of children, and marched up to her, throwing the toddler into her arms, he grunted out a, "Here," and without another word he turned on his heal on got back into his car.

As he drove away, Harry brought up a small fist and waved, "Bu-bye."

**Please Review! *puppy dog eyes***


	4. Chapter 4 Late Night Merge

Chapter 4

They stood on the stoop for only a moment before the matron carried them inside. "Well young man, what are we going to do with you?" she said as they entered her small office.

Sitting down her desk, in an old wooden chair that was devoid of any comfort, she sat Harry on the desk in front of her. _Potter, now is the time to milk the whole cute baby thing_, Voldemort hissed.

_I know, I know_, he grumbled. Sometimes playing baby was a pain in the ass . . . literally. He smiled at her, and brought his blanket up into his mouth, chewing on the corner, and giving her a perfect view of the name on his blanket.

"Well Harry, I don't think that with a smile like that, that you will be here very long," she said with a slight smile on her lips.

He didn't have to sit there very long. Miss Collins did most (okay all) of the talking, while Harry had side conversations with the Dark Lord in his mind.

"_I burned down the orphanage that I lived in_," Voldemort thought distractedly, as they were carried into the empty nursery. They were the youngest child by three years in the orphanage, and to them it was a huge relief. Neither of them wanted to deal with another screaming child that really was 15 months.

"_Yeah, let's not repeat that_," Harry snapped back as he was placed on an old changing table.

His blanket was gently taken out of his hands and thrown on the arm of a rocking chair, and he was stripped to his diaper. The hands paused as soon as his skin came into view. His bruises were only a day old, and they stuck out on his pale skin.

"_Ten galleons says she hunts down the oaf and kills him herself_."

"_Deal_," Harry agreed.

* * *

Sarah Collins, the matron of Greenbrier Orphanage, wasn't a mean woman. In fact she loved children. Every child that came through her orphanage had had some form of hardship in their young lives, and she hated to see them enter a place like this.

She had felt her anger rise as the beefy man stepped out of his car. He wasn't here to adopt, and she wouldn't let him have any of the children if he was. The man was too large to be healthy, and his attitude towards the children screamed violent tendencies. He wasn't a man she would let anywhere near children, especially the toddler he carried under his arm.

The little boy clutched a blue blanket to him, and looked around curiously as they walked towards the orphanage. The man all but threw the baby into her arms before waddling back to his car.

With an armful of little boy she watched the purple faced man drive away, "Bu-bye," said a soft voice from her arms. Looking down she saw a little hand raised in farewell, and a solemn look that didn't belong on a face so young.

Sighing in disgust at the child's abandonment, she carried the little guy to her office, wanting to make a file for him on their website. She placed him on her desk and looked at him for a moment, "Well young man, what are we going to do with you?" He really was a beautiful baby. His soft black hair stuck up every which way, and his green eyes peered at her with intelligence shining in their depths.

The baby smiled a four toothed smile and brought his blanket up into his mouth. As he chewed on the corner of the blue blanket, she caught sight of a name stitched beautifully into the soft fabric.

"Well Harry, I don't think that with a smile like that, that you will be here very long," she said, smiling.

Turning on her computer, which took awhile, she started making a file on the boy. She set the child's age at 14 months based on his size, and decided to go change him.

Carrying Harry into the nursery, she laid him down and gently took the baby blanket out of his hands. He was wearing a small blue sleeper that had seen better days.

She stopped undressing him as soon as his skin came into view. Large bruises stood out against pink baby skin. Bile rose in her throat at the hand marks on the baby's arms. Harry seemed to be watching her, and she did her best to stifle her anger. For the time being.

Just wanting to get this over with so she could call the police, she removed his diaper. Her hands shook as her anger grew; Harry had the worst case of diaper rash she had ever seen. Large welts and open sores covered him and it was a wonder that he wasn't screaming.

Swearing, she ran to phone the police, she didn't like child abusers and would relish this man's incarceration.

* * *

Life at the orphanage wasn't much, but it was better than the Dursleys ever were. Vernon had been sentenced to five years of prison and would need a social worker to give him permission to see his son. For Harry it wasn't nearly enough, but in this time line he hadn't been in their care very long.

Voldemort and Harry had spent hours hypothesizing about their current situation. What they came up with was both unnerving and astonishing.

The little soul of Harry Potter had been absorbed by the elder Harry's when he took over the body, and then Voldemort's had entered the body as well. A body wasn't meant to have to souls fighting for control and it was only a matter of time before they combusted, or they merged. If they were to merge souls violently it could very well cost them what little remained of their sanity.

Souls were very delicate things, and if two were to touch it could destroys the persons involved, but Harry and Voldemort were different. It turns out that the killing curse had originally placed a shard of the Dark Lord's soul in Harry's core, making the mix even more complicated.

Voldemort's soul was torn and destroyed, weak if you will. If Harry was as innocent as he pretended to be, Voldemort's soul could have been destroyed trying to hold onto such a pure vessel.

But Harry's soul wasn't pure.

Harry had been changed by the torture that he had been subjected to. His thoughts were darker and he had a horrible time controlling his emotions. And as a result, bouts of accidental magic became common.

The two souls in one body were slowly ripping each other apart. They were slowly destroying each other, and there was no way to separate them without the Dark Lord's body. If they didn't do something soon there was a good chance that one or both of them would cease to exist.

And they were both to damn stubborn to give up living. Not only that but the Dark Lord of this time was still alive. Harry had to stop him from killing Cedric and many others that would most likely lose their lives if he didn't intervene.

So with a heavy heart they did the only thing they could do. They merged.

In the middle of the night, time seemed to slow as the soul of Lord Voldemort took control of the infant's body and chanted a spell he had found in an old tomb in the Malfoy library in his mind.

It was a long strenuous process and he had to stop himself from blacking out several times. But the end result would be for the best. If they didn't do this they could die, but even if they succeeded there was a huge chance that they could go insane.

Hours later the small infant went limp in the bottom of the crib, his eyes sliding shut, and an exhausted sigh escaping his small pink lips.

That cold December night two souls, Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter, became one.

* * *

I'm sorry it's short but I haven't had time to update and what happens next needs to be in a different chapter. If you have any questions just pm me. Thank you to those who have reviewed you make my day. Please no flames about length. It is unbelievable hard to write long chapters.

**Review!**


	5. Chapter 5 A New Home

Now the orphanage called Honorhall I guess is from Skyrim, but seeing as I suck at video games I know nothing about it. My brother just told me to name it Honorhall. So if you expect all the details to match the game I'm sorry.

* * *

Chapter 5

Harry sat eerily silent by a bush as the other children screamed and ran around. It had been two years since Harry had merged with the Dark Lord, and life had changed drastically. No longer was Harry a sweet innocent child, because he was far from innocent.

When he had merged his soul and mind with his enemy they had become one. This meant that all their memories from their original timeline were shared and they thought of the others memories as their own. And the knowledge that he gained was unbelievable. He now had more knowledge of spells and the magical world than he ever had before.

But there were other side affects. He wasn't just Harry Potter, but also Tom Riddle. He had the sick character traits that defined the Dark Lord. There was a dark cruelty that always ached to be released upon the worthless children that tested his patients with their small minds. As of late he found himself having a hard time not torturing the pathetic muggles that cooed at him in a baby voice.

The three year old was pulled out of his thoughts as Louis, the orphanage bully, caught sight of his small frame sitting in the shadow of the bush. An almost predatory gleam entered the seven year olds eyes as he started walking towards what he thought was a defenseless toddler.

He watched with mounting anticipation as the older boy drew closer. Louis was a tall boy for his age and overweight from steeling kids' food. He wasn't Dudley fat but he wasn't healthy either. His meaty hands were always clenched in some way, weather they were about to knock someone's lights out or they were locked around someone's throat. As the boy waddled across the lawn, his soft baby blond locks blew slightly in the wind, and his beady black eyes glinted with glee. The boy's worn clothes were ripped in many place but were better off than most of the others (besides Harry's for he always fixed his with his magic).

Standing up slowly, Harry slipped on a mask. It was a simple mask really, but a mask all the same. His eyes lost some of their darkness and fear replaced it.

The boy's strides quickened when he thought Harry was going to make a break for it. Louis smirked, "What's this?" he asked in a mocking voice, as his follower Kevin slid into position on his right side. "Oh it's inkle Harrykins, that's right."

The boy lashed out with a chubby hand and pushed Harry to the ground. Harry let himself fall to the ground and he looked up at the two boys with fake fear in his unnaturally green eyes.

The boys laughed stupidly as Harry picked himself up and dusted off his hole less jeans. Another hand lashed out and moved to connect with his face. Harry knew he had to let the blow hit its target so he tilted his head to the right slightly to lessen the impact.

That didn't stop it from hurting, but he had had worse. With sadistic glee Harry pushed the dark magic at the children.

They fell writhing in pain with shrill screams escaping their grimacing mouths. The other orphans out in the yard froze and turned to see what was causing the boys so much pain. Not wanting to find themselves in similar positions they scrambled away from the smirking three year old and the two bullies.

Harry cackled as he watched the filth that he was forced to live with run with terror in their eyes. Harry loved torture. The little wrenches thought that they were better than him, but he would show them. They couldn't understand him and so they picked on him. Harry's magic was to powerful for his body and often times his core would lash out. And every day he was growing stronger.

Harry's eyes flashed a crimson red as the boys sobbed in pain.

* * *

A young couple walked through the orphanage with Sarah in front of them. As they walked Sarah kept up a constant narration about the children that she tended to. The couple was quite young. The man was probably in his early thirties and the woman in her late twenties. They walked with their hands intertwined and strained smiles on their faces trying to hide their disgust towards the place where the children lived.

As they walked they didn't really encounter very many children for many were at school (seeing as most of the children were older), but they got the occasional glimpse of a child. They only said hello and continued on their way to the matron's office.

* * *

Harry walked silently down the empty halls with one of the older girl's hands clutched in his. He didn't like the physical contact but it was needed for his act.

He was being led to the matron's office and that could mean only two things. One, he was in some sort of trouble, but he highly doubted that because timeout was usually used; and two, potential parents were here to take a look.

He breathed in and out once, and slowly put on an excited yet sad mask on. His black eye squinted slightly, but the other one was filled with fake hope. The hand holding his gave a small squeeze and together they walked through the door.

* * *

The young couple sat in anticipation as the youngest child was brought to them. They couldn't have their own children so had decided to adopt from the local orphanage. They had wanted an infant but there were few in their city and they were all girls. They wanted a boy. Their breath caught as the door was pushed open and a small boy was lead in by the hand.

The child was absolutely stunning. Fine black hair covered his head in soft waves and curled at the bottom, his face held high cheek bones, and his chin was pointed. But this wasn't what caught the couple's eyes. No, it was the little boy's eyes that held their own.

Dark emerald eyes peered up at them with a large bruise converging the right side of his face. The child's eyes were older looking than they should have been and there was a sharp cunning in their depths that shouldn't belong in a child so young.

The child was small for his age and innocence seemed to pore out of him. The teen let go of the child's hand and quietly left the silent room.

* * *

As Harry caught sight of the young couple he sighed mentally in frustration. He wouldn't live with stupid muggles. No magical child should, and as soon as they saw that he was different than them they would abandon him. Again.

He had already been adopted once and returned the next day.

Heaving a nearly inaudible long suffering sigh, he placed on a mask that could melt most adults.

His green eyes shined with innocence and he kept his unnaturally green eyes locked on them. The hand holding his disappeared and he walked towards the matron without breaking eye contact.

Her arms wrapped around his waist and he held himself still as he was pulled onto Miss Collins' lap. His stare was starting to make the couple uncomfortable and they looked away from his eyes.

"This, Mr. and Mrs. Donner, is young Harry," Collins said softly, in an attempt to break the tense silence.

"Hello Harry," the young woman whispered.

"Hello," Harry replied in a fake shy voice.

They were putty in his hand.

* * *

Harry stood on the steps of Honorhall Orphanage.

It had been a week. One week was the second shortest time span for a family to take him in. Last time the family only put up with him for a month, but at least they had taken him back to the same orphanage. Now he was in a different country, because they had planned to take a vacation to France after adopting him. Unfortunately, he wasn't what they were looking for.

They had dropped him off at this hell hole soon after arriving, and they didn't look back. He hadn't done anything to really deserve being abandoned in France. All he had done was turn Mrs. Donner's hair purple when she yelled at him for not sitting still. Not really his fault, they're the ones that had refused to take him to the loo.

With a sneer plastered onto his face he made his way up to the door. The orphanage wasn't the prettiest sight. The door hung at an odd angle and the window panes had long since been shattered. The building could do with a new coat of paint, and the yard was filled with weeds.

He lifted his small hand to knock, but dropped it as the door was pulled open viciously. An elderly lady stood impatiently in the doorway with a scowl on her wrinkled face. Quickly, her eyes scanned the area around him for prying eyes, and seeing no one she grabbed him by the collar and jerked him inside.

Even with the rough handling, Harry landed gracefully in the hall and looked around in silent interest. They stood in a small, shabby hallway with few doors branching of. A small stair case led to the second level, and Harry could barely disguise his disgust.

He dogged the hand that reached for him again and slipped farther down the hall, intent on investigating his new 'home'.

* * *

Thanks for your reviews. The more reviews I get the more people will give this story a chance. I hope you liked this chapter, and I have a lot planned for the next one.

Also, I find myself in need of a really good name for a snake and a reasonable type of snake that Harry should keep as a pet. If you have any ideas just let me know.

**Please Review!**


	6. Chapter 6 Time Flies

Chapter 6

During the months that Harry had lived in Honorhall Orphanage, he learned many things. One of which was that even his best innocent act didn't work on Ms. Hagwell. He got caught for quite a few of the things he caused, and as a result had to put up with the matron trying to punish him.

But he didn't get caught most of the time. He had easily gotten away with killing Johnny's pet rat, and charming the mush that all the children ate into worms (except his of course, which had been turned into roast duck). Ms. Hagwell had been subjected to several dangerous pranks, and since his arrival she had broken her right wrist, three fingers, her left pinky toe, and her funny bone. Of course, each break had been inflicted after she tried to punish him.

Punishment in Honorhall was a nasty affair. Most children ran away in their teens and never looked back, and the oldest that were still around watched out for the youngest. Four year old Harry didn't have a "mentor". He did whatever he wanted and punished those who got in his way.

Soon after his arrival at this five star resort, he had claimed the best bedroom on the second level. He had had to kick a thirteen year old girl out, and clean the room of everything girly, but it had been well worth it. His room was easily one of the biggest and had the best view. His window looked out into the street, and was positioned right above the front door. He had a small bed with a powerful cushioning charm on it, and a corner desk next to his wardrobe. His room was a faded green that now looked more grey than green. It wasn't much, but it would do for now.

It was here that he let some of his true colors show. Of course, he had tortured kids at his old orphanage, but he was never caught. Here though? Here he let his power radiate from his body. A dangerous aura seeped out of his core like a fog and surrounded him like a cape, warding off unwelcome people, and earning him a fair amount of fear from the other occupants.

He was sitting down with his back against the trunk of the only tree in the yard; somehow managing to make his position look graceful and proper. A red apple he had plucked from an old ladies apple tree, shifted between his hands. The apple's color contrasted with his dark clothing and the dead plants around him.

Bringing the apple to his mouth he took a bite, and sighed as he let himself be engulfed by the Dark Lord's memories.

-Memories-

A very young Tom Riddle walked through the disserted halls of a rundown orphanage. His hair was carefully combed into place, and his second hand clothes clean. His hands were curled into tight fists at his sides, and a scowl on his handsome face.

He was close to the stairs when he caught sight of the orphanage bully getting ready to descend the stairs. His mouth curled into a vicious smirk and with a barely noticeable twitch of his fingers the young bully, Jeff, was pushed down the stairs, head first.

* * *

A slightly older Tom Riddle was walking through a dark cave with two children following slightly behind. Their eyes flashed around the cave, as if expecting something to jump out at them from the shadows.

They only stopped when they came to a dark wall. They looked around confused; Tom said he was going to show them something. They didn't notice the wicked glint in the eight year olds eyes.

The cave echoed with their screams.

-End Memories-

* * *

-Time Jump-

Seven, almost eight, year old Harry watched silently, as panic spread throughout the hell hole he had been forced to live in for the past five years. The years were spent avoiding beatings and getting revenge on those who dared to defy him. Ms. Hagwell was always breathing down his neck with a cane firm in hand. The children either scurried away when they saw him or tried to pick a fight. You'd think that with the number of children that Harry had taught lessons to that the stupid muggles would get the point, but muggles had very low IQs.

So after years of planning, Harry finally made his move.

Ms. Hagwell was nailed to the ceiling, blood dripped and pooled on the floor; her body broken and twisted, large gashes and a permanent grimace upon her ugly face. The children ran like headless chickens, and screamed unintelligible words at each other, but none moved towards the dead matron.

With a twisted smile, Harry walked out of the door and sealed all the exits shut. He stood next to the only tree for several long moments, soaking in the fear of the children, before throwing his arm out and away, setting the orphanage on fire.

Pounding on the doors and shrieks of pain, fear, and desperation filled the cold night air, as the fire licked at the orphanage and the people inside.

Green eyes now crimson, Harry turned away, and never looked back.

* * *

-Time Jump-

It had been four years since Harry Potter had been reported missing. The young boy hadn't responded to his Hogwarts letter, so the school sent someone to speak with him. The only child they found was a plump, snot nosed brat who needed his rear end swatted for his attitude.

They didn't find a Potter.

They searched the house, and there wasn't any evidence that a second child had ever lived in the residence. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley (after they had gotten back together when Vernon had been released) denied ever having a Harry Potter in their house, but their claims were found false under Veritaserum.

They had abandoned the baby because of his magic.

This revelation shocked and angered the Wizarding World to its core, and many innocent muggles were slaughtered as weeks went by without the Boy-Who-Lived. But their search for answers wasn't all for not. They went to the orphanage the boy was brought to by the Dursleys, and found the couple that had adopted him when he was three. He was nowhere to be found. Instead, a small girl played in the three bedroom house, while her adoptive parents watched fondly.

When asked, they admitted to dumping him at Honorhall orphanage in France, but records stated that the orphanage had long since been destroyed because of a fire. There had been no survivors.

Latter that week, the Wizarding World mourned the death of their hero.

After the death of the Boy-Who-Lived, Britain had been on a shaky standing with the other magical communities, and now the Triwizard Tournament was being hosted to try and unite the Magical World once more.

The Ministry could only hope that it worked.

* * *

The students of Hogwarts stood out in front of the school waiting for the delegations from the other schools to arrive. They shivered in the icy air, and complained to their neighbors about the long wait, just as a carriage, pulled by large winged horses, flew over the Forbidden Forest.

The palominos, the things pulling the large carriage, were the size of elephants, and they landed with a large crash as their hooves hit the ground at different times. A large carriage, that was the size of a house, landed not long after. Silence engulfed the students as they waited for something to happen next.

They watched as a boy opened the door and unfolded a set of golden steps, which were quickly used by the largest woman the Hogwarts students had ever seen. The students that fallowed, all wore pale blue robes, which were easily twice as expensive as the Hogwarts robes. About a dozen boys and girls waited, shivering, as their Headmistress greeted Headmaster Dumbledore.

Not long after the Beauxbatons students were escorted to the Great Hall, a ship was spotted rising out of the Lake. The ship was magnificent as it rose above the dark waters of the Lake. The ship cast an anchor and the students came ashore on a wooden plank.

The Durmstrang students were dressed in thick fur coats with red underclothes. They were in a perfect line fallowing two regally dressed people. The first was obviously the Headmaster. He wore black and white robes that matched his hair, but he wasn't nearly as nice looking as the person behind him.

Gasps sounded from girls at the sight of the gorgeous boy that walked with unnatural grace. Soft black hair framed an angular face, and curled near his ears. Unearthly green eyes almost glowed in the night air, and full lips completed the perfect aristocrat look. He looked the epitome of the perfect pureblood. He wore silk black robes that fit his frame, and made it look like he was gliding instead of walking. The robes had green trim that brought out his eyes perfectly, and black dragonhide boots and gloves completed the look. He truly was a sight to behold.

The two Headmasters greeted each other with fake warmth and moved inside. The Durmstrang students didn't follow their Headmaster; they waited for the black haired boy to make the first move, and then followed him into the Great Hall.

* * *

The Hogwarts students watched with mounting confusion as the boy didn't sit with his peers. He was a student, right? The boys and girls from Durmstrang had seated themselves at the Slytherin table, and the mysterious boy had kept walking. As the boy walked, many noticed the empty chair beside Igor Karkaroff.

Whispers spread through the hall as the boy took the seat with no hesitation is his gate. It was then that Dumbledore seemed to notice the boy. His goblet clattered from his hand, and pure shock flashed across his wrinkled face before it was hidden by a strong twinkle.

"Harry Potter, what a surprise," Dumbledore said, his voice echoing in the now silent Great Hall.

"It's Professor Potter now, sir."

Several more goblets were dropped in shock.

* * *

I am so sorry for such a long wait. I've been busy and have lacked inspiration. I apologize if there was any grammar or spelling errors. I tried.

Now for a vote:

A) Harry should compete in the Tournament.

B) Harry should be a judge.

If I don't get a good enough response I'll just pick one but I thought I would ask for your opinion. There is also the whole deal with Moody. Should it be the fake one and Harry kills him? Should this story fallow the real one? Let me know what you want to see, cause I have writer's block, and being the person that I am I neglected to really fine tune the details I wanted in the story.


	7. Chapter 7 Not a Nice Greeting

Chapter 7

Harry Potter sat regally in a comfortable looking leather armchair in the Headmaster's office. Two Aurors circled him like birds of prey, a constant stream of questions streaming from their mouths. Potter answered every question with a polite tone, but every answer was completely uninformative.

Snape stood silently against the double doors leading into the study, a sneer on his face as he looked at the child of his enemy. Albus Dumbledore sat behind his large oak desk with a bright twinkle in his eyes, as he gazed over half moon spectacles at the child the world had believed to be dead until he had strode into the school like a prince who returned from a long journey.

Other professors lined the walls, watching the interrogation with wary curiosity. "Where have you been," growled the ex-Auror and defense teacher.

"Many places, I personally enjoyed Disney Land."

"You know that's not what I meant!" The Auror exclaimed, his knurled fist knocking several of the Headmaster's trinkets off of their stands.

"When speaking, one must make their intent clear. We are not all mind readers, Mr. Moody," the green eyed teen drawled with mock sincerity. Frustrated growls escaped the Aurors, and with an internal chuckle, Harry smoothly rose to his feet, and vanished his chair with a wave of his wand.

He looked out from under his lashes at those in the room he said, "If this little chat is over, I believe I will return to the ship and attend to my students." He started to walk towards the large doors, but someone stopped him.

"You will not walk out on the Headmaster, you brat." The voice of Severus Snape snapped at Harry. A dark smirk curled Harry's lips as he gazed at his father's childhood enemy.

"Watch me."

* * *

What occurred in the Headmaster's office was a complete secret, so naturally, the whole school knew by morning. Whispers filled the Great Hall as Harry swept up to the professors' table and sat down gracefully, a neutral mask on his handsome face. He was greeted quietly by Karkaroff, but he didn't return the greeting. His green eyes surveyed the Great Hall skeptically before looking at the Goblet of Fire in front of him with a bored look on his face. Eyes watched him unashamedly even when he caught them staring, but he never did anything to stop the students' observing him with undisguised curiosity.

"Professor Potter, what is it that you teach in Bulgaria?" someone squeaked from his left, and he turned to see Flitwick gazing at him with a smile on his goblin like face.

Brining his goblet of pumpkin juice to his mouth, he looked at the short man intently before smiling thinly, "I am the flying instructor and the Dark Arts professor," amusement laced his tone. Harry grinned internally at the shocked reactions of those in easy hearing range.

"Why would you need to be here, Mad-eye teaches Defense just fine?"

"Hogwarts does not offer as many courses as Durmstrang, and it would hinder our students to miss a year of a class. I was brought to teach the classes that our students would not be able to take here." Harry sipped silently on his pumpkin juice and ate a bit of toast before standing. "While I enjoyed speaking with you, Professor Flitwick, I must go and brief my students," and with that said he turned on his heal and ghosted down to the Slytherin table. As one his students stood to attention, and followed him out in two straight lines.

Hundreds of eyes watched them leave.

* * *

Harry watched in mounting irritation as Karkaroff spoke with his students. The man was an imbecile. He spoke with so much self importance that it was sickening. The man was something Harry despised the most. A snitch. Coupled with the fact that a large part of Harry felt like the man had betrayed him, and in many ways this was true, Harry wanted nothing more than to release his darker side, and let the Dark Lord side of him show his displeasure.

Taking a calming breath he leaned back in his chair, in the classroom he would be teaching in for the next few months. At first he hadn't wanted to come to Hogwarts. No, not at all. He had other, more important, things to occupy his time. While the old Harry would have just come back in time and tried to save the Hufflepuff that was killed, Harry was not that boy anymore. He was now a confusing mix of Dark Lord and boy hero. The souls merged to form one, but often times they fought for dominance, and Harry felt growing bloodlust in irritating situations.

Drawing his Occlumency shields tighter around his mind, Harry stepped forward and graciously excused the Headmaster form his classroom. The man spluttered in indignation, but a glare from Harry sent the man out the door.

Turning back to his silent class, Harry waved his hand at the board and a piece chalk rose into the air and wrote down the day's lesson. With a slight sneer he looked down at his seated students, "The Dark Arts have always been a temptation to those seeking power and prestige, but Dark magic is more than that. It is a fine art that many are unable to use correctly. It takes passion and indifference from a person to be efficient in the Dark Arts."

Harry smirked and pulled out his wand, this was his favorite class to teach.

* * *

The lights were dimmed as students and professors alike leaned forward in anticipation as bright blue flame erupted from an oversized goblet. Two out of three champions had been chosen, and the visiting schools were happy with their champions.

With good reflexes, the Headmaster of Hogwarts snatched the last name out of the air. Smiling slightly, Dumbledore read the name with a bright twinkle in his blue eyes, "Cedric Diggory!" Screams filled the air as Hufflepuff celebrated the fact that the Hogwarts champion was a Hufflepuff. Cedric Diggory stood on shaky legs and walked uncertainly towards the trophy room, becoming greener with each step.

The Goblet of Fire did not spit out another name.

* * *

Harry sat behind a neatly organized desk, deep in thought. The Goblet had not made him champion. Meaning that Crouch Jr. was not pretending to be Moody, or the present time Dark Lord had other plans for him. There was no doubt in his mind that Tom Riddle was going to come back soon, but Harry was one step ahead of him; he ahead the Dark Lord's memories. Using them he could predict what the man was going to do next and how he would handle Harry's return.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his door creaking open (he had refused to fix it seeing as it hindered people who tried to sneak in) and looked up to see Viktor enter with anticipation in his eyes, he held his Firebolt in his right hand. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Fly with me?" Krum asked with a slight smirk.

A matching smirk appeared on Harry's face.

* * *

Harry watched for a long moment before throwing his broom, a matching Firebolt, into the air and leapt onto it. Harry loved flying even if the Dark Lord side of him only enjoyed flying without a broom. He raced into the air and blasted past his student, looking like an acrobat. Krum looked on with only a hint of jealousy before going into a steep dive. Not waiting a moment, Harry followed quickly.

It was something they had always done when they flew together. It was practically a game of chicken, whoever who pulled up first, or crashed, lost. Krum was neck and neck with his professor when it came to skill, but Harry was more graceful and slimmer. He was built for speed, and while Krum was a great flier he was a little broader. He was a lot bigger than the 14 year old Dark Arts professor and as a result Harry could go faster than he could.

The ground rushed up to meet them, as they plummeted towards what most would consider certain death. Krum looked sideways at the boy beside him as Harry flattened himself further against his broom, pushing the broom faster than anyone thought it would ever go. Less than two feet from the ground Krum pulled up, and whipped his head back to watch as his professor kept going just a bit longer than he did. Harry Potter pulled up from his dive within inches of the green grass of the field.

Smirking in triumph, Harry shot back up into the sky, twirling as he went.

* * *

In a dark room illuminated only by the glow of a fire in the hearth, a monster of a man sat quietly. He was disappointed but not surprised to hear of Potter's return. A body was never found after all, but that didn't mean he hadn't hoped. He had wanted to kill the brat when he was a weak first year at Hogwarts, but the child had never showed up, and he had quietly watched from the shadows as the rest of the Wizarding World ran around like headless chickens searching for the wayward Boy-Who-Lived.

He was never found.

And while the world was distracted he claimed his prize. He wasn't the most powerful Dark Lord for anything. The traps around the Stone were meant for school children to pass without too much effort. He could have passed them in his sleep.

Dumbledore hadn't been happy to come back to the school after a press conference to find his defenses shredded and the sole object he was trying to protect missing. It almost lost him his job. Of course the Ministry denied his return to power, and the Dark Lord wasn't about to expose himself at the wrong moment.

It had taken him almost two years to build up his strength. The Elixir of Life was powerful and could stop death in it tracks, but he had an entire body to regrow. It was only the sheer amount of magic that he contained that sped up the process as quickly as it did.

After he regained most of his strength he laid in wait for the right moment where he could announce his presence to the world with his faithful following him into battle. He would rule the world with everyone magical kneeling at his feet. Those unworthy executed, before they could befoul the world with their presence.

It was a perfect plan that he would put into action soon. He had his followers gathered, his allies bribed, and his enemies threatened. The only thing that stood in his way now was Harry Potter.

* * *

I am sooooooo sorry that it took so long to update. My mom has been using the computer to study for exams and I had band competitions. I know I shouldn't give excuses…. I hope you liked this chapter cause I had to write it in fifteen minute intervals over the last few weeks and not even every day. I had the computer three times in the last two weeks. LAME! I need to get my own.

Anyway…enough of my insane ranting. I will try to update again soon, but I am trying to finish my other story. Yay!

Please review and any ideas on what evil Lord Voldemort should do, would be helpful.


	8. Chapter 8 Executions Galore

Chapter 8

Harry reclined thoughtfully in a dark leather armchair in the middle of his spacious living room. Hogwarts really was different from the last time he had been here, though technically it was the same time, just from a different point of view.

He had seen his old friends in the hallways and at meals, but he had no wish to rebuild the friendship that had been lost with his death. The Ron and Hermione in this time didn't know anything about him besides the gossip floating around the school told them, and he preferred to keep it that way. Harry was a different person now that he had been in his first life. With new powers and memories, he had the strength to take over the world. The Dark Lord side of him yearned to destroy all those in his path, and participate in sick mind games with his victims, before slowly killing them for all to see. Unfortunately, doing this would result in his arrest and the end of his plans.

He simply couldn't allow himself to become compromised, and being the prime suspect for a mass murder wasn't a great way to make sure his head was still attached to his body at the end of the day.

He sighed with disappointment, tapping his chin, his wand smacking rhythmically against his pale flesh. There was only one person that he could dispatch without arising too much suspicion.

A dark smirk curled his luscious lips, he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to have some fun.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stood in the now silent room that housed dozens of dark wizards. These were his Lord's Death Eaters, and it was his job to tell a select few of them that they were handpicked for an important job.

The execution of Harry Potter.

* * *

Igor Karkaroff flicked quietly through an old leather tomb in his lap, while snacking on expensive dark chocolate from Japan. He would never flatter the French by eating their chocolate. They were competition after all.

He chuckled and plopped another chocolate into his already full mouth, as he thought of how easy it was going to be to win the Triwizard Tournament. They practically had it in the bag, and Durmstrang was getting a lot of attention that they would otherwise not receive without Harry teaching and Victor being a student.

He brought up a glass of wine and took a delicate sip after swishing the contents around for a moment; yes, everything was working out quite well for the Headmaster of Durmstrang.

* * *

Harry watched his prey from his hiding spot in the shadows cast by an almost empty bookshelf. He waited and watched as his boss sat on a comfortable looking armchair with his expensive fur coat draped over the back. Igor Karkaroff had annoyed him for a very long time, and he was the only one Harry could vent his frustrations on without the Ministry or the students looking into it a whole lot. Igor Karkaroff was nothing more than a coward who would rat everybody out to save his worthless hide.

The Headmaster placed another fattening treat onto his pale tongue, making a "hmmm" sound as the chocolate melted in his grimy mouth. Harry crept up behind the man who thought too highly of himself, trying to decide on whether or not to leave a body to find.

* * *

The Great Hall was filled with laughter and the hum of conversation as the students, staff, and guests gathered for dinner. Many eyes continuously flickered to the teenage professor who was talking quietly with Snape. The boy seemed to be completely at ease in the middle of all the noise and stares. If he gave any notice of the students staring and whispering about him, he didn't show it.

Dessert had just arrived, when the large oak doors banged open with a large bang. All eyes turned to stare as a blonde haired woman wearing revealing robes and too much makeup, strut into the Great Hall. The woman walked towards the Professors' table without stopping to look around. She came to a stop in front of Harry Potter and placed her hands on her previously swaying hips.

Professor Moody stood up and a knurled hand whipped out a short wand. Professor Potter took a sip of his pumpkin juice and raised his eyes to the girl after a long moment of silence.

"Harry Potter," she said in a high nasally voice. "I have a bone to pick with you."

A perfectly sculpted eyebrow was raised at the woman's tone and a nasty smirk curled the boy's lips, "Oh? Well I have classes to teach, so call down your palls and we'll get this over with."

Five large black blurs flew to the ground, making no sound as they landed on their feet. They all wore long black robes that could be called Death Eater robes, the hood of the robes covering their faces in shadow. One held a long gleaming sword in his gloved hand, but most just held their wands in tight grips.

In a flash Professor Potter was on the other side of the table, but he did not draw his wand. The Dark Arts Professor walked calmly towards them with his footsteps silent on the cold stone floor. Without a second's hesitation, the woman pulled out her wand and the men started throwing curses at the young boy.

Harry Potter sidestepped and ducked the oncoming curses, moving soundlessly on his feet. The man with the sword charged the teen. Harry still did not pull out his wand. Waiting for the swordsman to come into range, and pivoted on his feet, sliding easily out of harm's way as the sword _whooshed_ down.

Never staying still the young professor swept his right leg around and kicked the man in the back of his knee, forcing him onto his knees. The man grunted as his knee caps collided with the stone floor. Spinning once more on his heel, Harry punched the man soundly on the temple, knocking him out.

By this time all the professors were on their feet, moving towards the fight that was quickly escalating in front of them. Just as they were drawing their wands a bubble like shield sprung up around the combatants.

The Boy-Who-Lived didn't seem to be deterred in the slightest though as he continued walking towards the threat opposite him, still not pulling out his wand, and instead avoiding the spells rocketing at him faster than a person could blink.

The students started to cheer as their favorite professor took on five men and a woman, showing no mercy as he fought. A nasty smirk curled his lips as he closed in on the clocked men across from him.

Finally pulling out his wand he twirled it in his hand as he walked. Without so much as a twitch of his lips, curses, both powerful and common flew from his wand. The men and woman threw up several shields, trying to stop the effects of the harmful curses, but two shattered as the force of the spells out powered their own. Potter's spells twisted around their bodies like the arms of an octopus catching its prey.

The men's screams rattled the watchers to their cores as the curses took their toll on the bodies of their victims. The first man cried out as both his legs were shattered, his screams only stopping when he blacked out from the tremendous pain. The second man's screams were cut off as his lips were magically sowed together. Blood dripped from his mouth, as flaming ropes twisted around his body, bringing him to the ground. His robes caught fire and his agonized moans around the stitches in his mouth filled the quieting Hall.

The last three men and woman took a collective step back as the professor stepped forward, though their new found fear did nothing to slow the barrage of curses being flung at the Dar Arts Professor. Flourishing his wand in a wide circle, Harry Potter made all the silverware on the nearby house table lift into the air and fly at the tallest male and the female beside him. The sharp utensils pierced their cloaks and into their bodies from all over. Droplets of blood soaked into the black cloth and dripped onto the floor. Their cries of pain were silenced by two quick stunners.

Still dodging oncoming spells, Harry was moving with an astonishing speed. His hand was blurred as he weaved confusing patterns with his wand. Both the last man and The-Boy-Who-Lived paused at the same time, looking at each other in silence.

Without hesitating another moment, the last man turned tail and began to run. Not one to let something to get away from him, the young professor gave chase. The bubble shield dissolved as Harry shifted his focus to the runaway wizard. Potter quickly overtook the man, flipping into the air twisting his body around and landing in front of the panicking man.

"Hello," he said in a smooth tone, before punching the man square in the jaw and grabbing him by the arm, throwing him into the Slytherin table. The man grunted in pain as his back collided with the large table with everything on it. The last man was silenced with one last stunner.

Silence filled the hall as the last of the intruders was subdued.

Moments later, cheers erupted like cannon fire.

* * *

I'm sorry for the long wait. I had finals and didn't feel like writing. Then just this week I got my driving permit. Yay! Other than that I hope to update soon I just need more ideas.

Thanks for reading

Please Review


	9. Chapter 9 The Weighing of the Wands

I don't own Harry Potter

Chapter 9

Maybe fighting the men the way he did in front of the student body and staff wasn't one of his more brilliant plans. There was no way he could possibly lay low with a performance like the one he had given the day before. Not that he really could in the first place as a fourteen year old professor to a school that teaches the Dark Arts. Added to the fact that he was the only one to have survived the Killing Curse, there was no way that he would ever be able to go by the name Harry Potter and expect to be able to stay under the radar.

A smirk curled his lips at the memory of the fight in the Great Hall. The look on the Headmaster's face had been priceless. No one except for the students at Durmstrang had known that he could fight to that caliber. It had been fun and perfect timing. With the break in at the castle, there wasn't a huge investigation into the death of Igor, because the British assumed that his death was caused by the men (and woman) that had tried to kill the Dark Arts professor. Not to say that there wasn't a huge investigation. It just wasn't centered on the death of the Durmstrang Headmaster.

After his glorious defeat of his attackers, he had been publicly thanked by Minister Fudge for protecting the students from all three schools. With all the publicity that his actions got him, it wasn't difficult for him to pull a few strings and become the temporary Headmaster of Durmstrang, until one was elected for the start of next school year. It really was perfect. As the Headmaster of Durmstrang he would become a judge in the Triwizard Tournament.

Being a judge was not something he had planned to become, but it gave him something to do to pass the time. Of course he wanted Viktor to win the cup; he wasn't going to be competent like Karkaroff, though, and show blatant favoritism.

Right now he was sitting next to a very suspicious Professor Moody. The man's magical eye was looking sideways at him through the side of his head. Harry was doing his best to keep all emotion from his face, but amusement curled the corner of his lips. The man was simply too much. Of course he believed in being suspicious of strangers and all those around you, but the man was just so conspicuous.

Suddenly a memory flooded his mind.

-Memories-

A young Tom Riddle sat silently, surrounded by his group of admirers. But his attention was not on the gossip that Bellatrix was spreading, it was on the suspicious eyes of the Transfiguration Professor. Albus Dumbledore wasn't even attempting to hide his suspicion. The man's eyes had been on him since the Chamber had been opened.

He knew that if he was to keep from getting caught by the Deputy Headmaster that he would have to erase all evidence that it was him who was causing the attacks.

-End Memories-

Harry Potter carefully laid down his soup spoon, and stood gracefully, moving out of the Great Hall with silent steps. Even more eyes than usual watched as he glided out the staff door.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk with his hands entwined together, watching as Alastor Moody paced back and forth, venom filled accusations being spewed from his lips. The man had become obsessed with Harry Potter overnight, and seemed to have gotten it stuck in his mind that the Dark Arts Professor was responsible for the death of Igor Karkaroff.

"-and the boy is so full of bull shit! He undermines his superiors more than I have ever seen from a teenager, and you know teenagers Albus. They are always getting under adults' fingernails. If I could just-"

The Headmaster of the school had finally had enough, and with a surprising show of anger, he slapped his desk, making the ex-Auror turn quickly and whip out his wand, and Fawkes the phoenix to flap his red and gold wings in displeasure.

"That is enough Alastor! The boy has given you no proof for your allegations against him. There is no evidence that he was responsible for the death of his own Headmaster. While yes, the boy has an authority problem, he himself is a figure of authority at Durmstrang." The old wizard was looking sternly over his half moon spectacles at his old friend.

The portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses watched the exchange with different levels of interest. One still snored soundly in his portrait, while several others were poking their heads into his frame, for he was closer and it was easier to hear, even with their ear trumpets. Phineas Nigellus was busy yelling abuse to the air, no one listening to his prejudice ramblings.

"Just keep an eye on the boy," Dumbledore went onto say. "I want to know his every move. Find out which side of the war he's on."

* * *

Professor Potter looked up from the large tome he was reading, his students were quietly working on a test he set for them. He knew that every single student would pass the test. For he had made it clear from the beginning that failure wasn't an option in his classroom.

Today was the Weighing of the Wand ceremony, and he was glad that he did not have a class at the time for he didn't want another professor to cover for him. His class and curriculum was only for Durmstrang students. His teachings were Dark and dangerous, and that was the reason he taught at a Dark school. Though really he did not have to teach, he just wanted the excuse to be in Hogwarts.

The Horcrux was here.

In a place so close to the leader of the Light, it was dangerous for an object as important as the shard of soul. Harry wanted to go straight to the room of Requirement and snatch it up. The Tom Riddle side of him was aching for more action, and to become part of Lord Voldemort once more. He wanted to rule the world, either with his old self at his side or alone, and it didn't matter either way. He just wasn't going to be overshadowed by another Dark wizard.

Darkness was gathering in the Wizarding world once more, and he was going to in the center of it.

* * *

Viktor Krum sat unhappily in a chair with the other two Champions on either side of him. There were so many other, more interesting things, he could be doing with his time than have an old man tell him things he already knew about his wand.

Really he couldn't help but be bored, and it wasn't like the company was any good. Cedric Diggory sat nervously in his chair, fiddling around and switching positions so many times that the old rickety chair he sat in was driving him mad with the squeaking that it produced. While Fleur Delacour sat too still with her chin pointed to the ceiling, her hands clasped on her crossed knees.

An inaudible sigh escaped his lips as he waited for the reporter and some fat guy that talks too much to quiet down. Mr. Bagman seemed to have quite the big head as he rambled about his, in Krum's opinion, unsuccessful Quidditch career. Irritation clear on his face the famous Seeker let his eyes wander to the judges' table. Professor Potter sat silently next to Madame Maxime. Mr. Crouch sat stiffly on her other side, his cane resting against the table.

Finally, it seemed as though Dumbledore had had enough of the chit chat, and cleared his throat, making the pair snap their heads in his direction. "May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" he said, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wand to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

He turned his head to look at the old British wand maker. He knew the man worked in Diagon Alley, but he wasn't the wand maker that crafted his wand. His wand had been made by a man named Gregorovitch, a man renowned in his ability to craft wonderful wands in Bulgaria.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand

"Hmm . . ." he said.

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully. Viktor Krum tuned out what the man went on to say. He did not care what the old man had to say about the veela's wand. If he missed anything important Professor Potter would bring it to his attention.

Soon Fleur's wand was adequately judged and Cedric took his turn. His eyes continued to wander the room, until he heard his name mentioned by Ollivander.

"Mr. Krum, if you please."

He got to his feet and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust his wand into the wand maker's wrinkly hands, shoving his hands into his pockets with a scowl on his face.

"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand maker, though the styling is never quite what I . . . however . . ."

The old wizard lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes . . . hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" the man looked at Krum and he nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees . . . quite rigid . . . ten and a quarter inches . . . _Avis!_"

His hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

Viktor shifted impatiently, his scowl becoming deeper as the old man handled his wand.

"Very good," Mr. Ollivander complimented before handing the wand back gently.

Turning around the Durmstrang champion spotted the temporary Headmaster of his school on his feet, moving swiftly towards him. Rita Skeeter was trying to catch up for an interview, which Krum knew she wouldn't get anytime soon. Miss Skeeter would never have been able to publish the bull she made up about the other people she writes about. Professor Potter would never stand for anything degrading and untruthful published about himself or his students.

"Mr. Pot-" they were out the door before she could finish her sentence and the door banged shut behind them.

* * *

Sorry for the long wait I was camping then at my father's house. Anyway I am running short on ideas and I'm thinking of getting a beta, but I have no idea how that whole thing would work as this is my second story and I have never had a beta.

If anyone has any ideas with where this story should go I would love to hear them. :)

Also should Harry be really dark by Voldemort's side or should he overpower him and steal his thrown. Just a few of my ideas I have been mulling over the last few days.


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